


Martin is a friend to all creatures

by Moths_Spiders_Books



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, gratuitous cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moths_Spiders_Books/pseuds/Moths_Spiders_Books
Summary: This was written in response to a fanfic prompt by a tumblr user. Pure fluff: Martin finds a cat.





	Martin is a friend to all creatures

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tending towards the fluffier side of Martin characterisation for this one. I'm still convinced he is No Good, or at least, Not What He Seems, but occasionally nice things should happen and Martin finds a friend.
> 
> Given my track record with these things, I fully expect Martin to be allergic to cats in canon.

Martin is reasonably sure that Jonathan would be too distracted to go into the secondary storage room. It was the one that Jane Prentiss - well. He was avoiding it and the...intervention...hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. But Jonathan was never just going to roll over and agree that yes, he’d violated all sorts of personal and professional boundaries, he was deeply sorry and he was going to try to make it up to them. Instead, more diatribes about Gertrude. Before Prentiss Martin had never believed you could smell fear but stuck in that room it was that same thing, that same sense of the cornered animal, the bared teeth and the snarl but also the look of desperation. Jonathan knew he was cornered. And a trapped animal is always beyond comfort. 

He pushed the door to the storage room open and headed over to the far corner. There was a far corner that was partially blocked by some shelves and stacks of boxes, and in another box, in a nest of jumpers, a cat was sleeping. Martin had privately named her Rey; a calico with a pretty face and a soft mew. He’d found her cowering out by the bins. But she’d taken his offer of tuna gratefully enough and had purred when he picked her up. No collar, and she was too skinny to be actually owned by anyone. She couldn’t be very old, either - she had that lanky kitten look.

His mum had always told him off for being a compulsive rescuer. Before she cleaned the house - when cleaning the house was something she actually did - he wouldn’t let her start until he’d taken every spider into the garden. Martin also rescued baby birds (unsuccessfully, most of the time) hedgehogs (people tended to drive very fast by the park a couple of streets over) and he always spent a lot of time looking for lost pets. He’d got fifty pounds once for locating an errant tortoise. If he was a better person he’d have donated it to the RSPCA, but he really wanted some new trainers.

“It’s not the same as the lost tortoise,” his Mum had said. She was huddled on the couch, smoking, but she’d stopped crying long enough to drink the cup of tea he’d made her.   
“Think of it more as the baby bird.” And then he’d started crying, stupid great snotty sobs, and she reached out and he wasn’t too proud to crawl into her arms.   
“I just meant...you can’t fix it, this time. I’ll be alright. I just need some time -”  
Doors were closing on her everywhere. She had been working, and suddenly she wasn’t, and she couldn’t find a job. She said there were reasons, but he couldn’t work out what they were. In the end he stopped being angry about her smoking so much and she was a lot more tolerant of the animals he brought home. They’d worked it out in the end.

No such luck with Jonathan, though. Or Tim. Sasha seemed...well. Sasha was Sasha, and therefore a bit standoffish, but...Tim had been so angry. And so scared, too. And tired. But Tim had lots of people in his life who’d listen, lots of people who cared, and lots of people who’d take his side. Jonathan didn’t really have people. Or gave the impression that he didn’t. He certainly didn’t talk as if he had people. He didn’t act as if he had people. It’s starting to remind him more of his Mum, who, after losing her job, lost most of her friends as well. She was angry about something, and wouldn’t tell him what or why, and then that anger bled over into everything. 

Rey had just woken up and looked up at him, purring. He picked her up and was happy to feel another living thing curled close to him for warmth, for protection. He’d given her fish and a warm place to sleep and therefore he was a kind and good person who’d done something right. Cats couldn’t accuse you of having ulterior motives.

Tim had said some things to Martin after the meeting, things that he had obviously regretted as soon as he said them, but he couldn’t take them back. And he’d want to apologise, probably tomorrow or the day after, but Martin didn’t want to talk to him right now. He wanted to go home early, take the next couple of days off, and perhaps see if he could talk his landlord into letting him have a cat. He couldn’t imagine anyone chasing him up about that.

Jonathan has an impeccable and uncanny knack for dramatic timing, so of course he opens the door when Martin’s turned to face it, Rey still in his arms. There’s no shouting, no outrage, not even a flicker of irritation. Martin recognises it from his Mum’s bad days - the anger, with nothing to feed on, burns away - leaving only a hollow thing. But Jonathan is not looking at Martin. Jonathan is looking at Rey. His limp is worse when he’s tired or upset, so he takes a while to navigate the still-scattered boxes. But he reaches out and scratches Rey’s chin. 

“She’s very pretty,” he says, with almost no inflection. “Was she out by the bins? I thought I heard a cat out there.”  
“Yeah,” Martin says. “And it’s been so cold, I thought -”  
“As long as she doesn’t pee anywhere,” Jonathan says. He takes Rey from Martin without asking, and she twists for a moment, uncomfortable. Then she starts chewing on his lanyard and settles down.   
“I’m going to take her home,” Martin says. “She’s very friendly, and I’d quite like a cat.”  
“Aren’t you moving soon?”  
“Well, I was going to, but you know how London is at the moment -”  
“Mmm.”  
Jonathan’s attention is entirely taken up by Rey. He stands there for about ten minutes, just holding her. Martin’s Mum had told him off for trying to talk through people’s silences, so he just stands there as well.   
“You won’t be able to take her on the tube,” Jonathan says at last. “I’ll fill you out a taxi chit. You can leave early as well. I expect you’ve got some things to buy.”  
“But -”  
“Look, just say you’re sick. And if they find out, what’s the worst that could happen to me? They haven’t sacked me for “gross and inappropriate invasions of privacy.” I’m sure they’ll excuse another lie. It’s not even -” He stops. “Thank you, Martin. Please go home.”  
“If you’re sure. And if you see anyone else...tell them they can go as well.”

Martin waits a few seconds after Jonathan’s vanished into his office before he grabs all of his stuff. Lilly’s not happy about being put in a box, but she still manages to be fairly well behaved. Although as soon as she gets out of the box she runs to a pile of clean laundry and pees on it, which he should have seen coming. At least it wasn’t on any of the boxes at work. He lets her run around - she does scratch at the furniture a bit, but once she finds the bedroom she’s happy enough to curl up next to his pillow. 

 

Martin goes out to buy cat food and litter and maybe a few toys - the supermarket’s open late tonight, although he doesn’t like to leave Rey by herself. 

He comes back in time to meet his new neighbour, an elderly, hippy-ish lady who seems very quiet but perfectly nice. He couldn’t remember her name and was slightly embarrassed because the first time they’d met he’d been very carefully transporting a spider in a glass outside. She’d smiled at him, but he still been embarrassed. But here she was again, smiling. 

“Do you have a new pet?” she asked, in her vague, quiet way. “I thought I heard a miaow.”  
“I’m just looking after her for now,” he admits. “Just until I ask Mark-”  
“Oh, I was told very firmly when I came,” his neighbour says, “No pets.”  
Martin’s heart fails. He feels like an idiot.   
“I’d like to meet her though,” she says. “I don’t mind cats.”  
He takes her upstairs, and opens the door. Rey has got up and greets him - but at the sight of his neighbour she backs away. Not scared, but certainly not willing to come closer.   
“She doesn’t seem like a hunter,” his neighbour remarks, staring at Rey. “That’s good.”  
“Well, she’ll be an inside cat so she won’t be catching any birds anyway.”  
“Mmm. Well. There are still things she can catch inside. If she was a hunter. But she’s not.”  
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Mark -”   
“I can talk to Mark. I’m sure he’ll come around.”  
“Thanks. I mean - it’s going to sound stupid, but I really want - I just want -”  
“A nice thing. Yes. You deserve a nice thing.”  
“Thanks.”  
Martin is still watching Rey, who is watching his neighbour. She turns to go, and Martin - suddenly feeling a flash of panic, something like the itching panic he felt when Prentiss was outside his door - says,  
“Let me know if you need anything. It can be quite lonely here, and -”  
“You’re a very nice young man, Martin,” his neighbour says. “I’ll talk to Mark. I’m sure he’ll let you keep her.”  
And she is gone, and Martin curses himself; he never asked her name. 

Rey is lovely. Genuinely lovely. She loves to play, uses her litterbox, and loves to sit on his lap. Occasionally she will sit by the window and chirp at the birds outside, but she avoids spiders, which is fine by Martin. He takes a photo of her sleeping which he makes his phone background. It’ll be nice to have something normal to talk to the others about as well, apart from Jonathan’s weird behaviour. Well, when he finally feels like talking to Tim again. For now he’s happy to lie in bed, Rey curled up beside him, purring. He’ll take her to the vet in a few days, get her checked out and microchipped. When he reaches out to touch her she moves towards his hand, purring. 

It’s funny, he thinks. He wouldn’t have taken Jonathan for an animal person. But Rey is obviously a very lovely cat. In his head he plans out the next letter to his Mum - he imagines her laughing as she reads it, asking why it took him so long to adopt another stray.


End file.
